


Two Make a Pair

by d_aia



Series: Partners [2]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Sherlock (TV), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Bondlock, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-18
Updated: 2014-03-18
Packaged: 2018-01-16 05:02:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1332958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/d_aia/pseuds/d_aia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Q starts behaving oddly. Everyone worries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Make a Pair

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: James Bond & Sherlock characters and locations don't belong to me. 
> 
> You kind of have to read the first one in the series to fully understand this one, but if you really aren't in the mood then keep in mind that Q is a Holmes brother.

“This hallway better not be blocked, Q,” James breathed in his comm. 

“Is it ever?” Q’s calm voice gave the reply absent mindedly. 

“With how much attention you appear to be paying, it wouldn’t surprise me,” James said. 

There was a pause in which James imagined he could hear teeth grinding. “You aren’t shot or stabbed, are you?”

Clearly Q was waiting for an answer, so James grudgingly gave him one. “No.”

“Then I’m paying enough attention.” Q’s voice was resolute.

“I won’t stay that way for long if you don’t find me a way on the roof of this damn building,” Bond responded with the kind of dry intensity that was characteristic when his missions refused to go his way. 

“Patience,” Q said calmly once again. “Two more turns and you should reach the roof.”

Bond allowed the slightest twinge of irritation to enter his voice. “Something’s off about this mission, Q.”

A pause followed that statement. Good. The untold variables that accompanied this moderately difficult mission hadn’t escaped Q either. Cameras that weren’t there in the initial recon, motion sensors activated by commands that were supposed to be deactivating them and, James was sure, modified building plans. Q had been distracted lately, but a couple of times he appeared wholly engaged in directing James around the building. It was almost relaxing, not that James would ever say it out loud, to hear Q so preoccupied once again on his project. At least James hoped it was a project. 

“Don’t be silly, James.” Q said when he was actually saying ‘Don’t trust the comms’. But why? What or better yet, who, had scared the arrogant Quartermaster into not trusting his own tech? “I just need to talk to the agent in charge of recon, they need to approach the task with more seriousness. That is all. Now, come along. Your next left.”

There was probably no agent. Must have found out the information though a proxy they bought off. Well, that was money very badly spent. 

“Sure you don’t want me to talk to them? Certainly it won’t be pleasurable when they point out the irony of being lectured by a most distracted Quartermaster,” said James with a smile hiding somewhere in his voice. 

“Nobody said anything them about talking, 007.” Q’s tone was the same as ever. Impossibly calm and dry like the desert. But there was something behind it. Something untold that set off James’ survival instincts like nobody’s business. He didn’t have time to think about why that may be right then and Q continued. “Take the next right. You should be seeing a door.” 

No door. “I don’t.”

Q’s soft sigh was almost inaudible. “I don’t have time for this,” Q said nasally, like he was pinching the bridge of his nose. And just as James was prepared to snarl a ‘Deal with it’, he received a pretty odd order. “007, find a window and make your exit.”

It was odd and not because James was being ordered to jump out a window, but because he was to abandon his mission. “What about the mission?”

Q sounded at about the end of his rope. Of course, that only meant that he was letting frustration leak into his voice, but James wasn’t a stranger to how much small changes in a person’s behavior could come from a devastating one on the inside. “We have to gather more information. After that the plan will still be the same.” 

The plan. What a fancy name for something so relatively simple. Get on the roof, use the vantage point to find the power grid, and so, the hidden generator, plant the bomb, sound the fire alarm. Or it would have been with the correct information, without which what should be an exercise in avoiding the right people and balancing several security systems became impossible. 

“Fine.” James made sure that his displeasure was heard before heading to the nearest window and looking down.

He had a few good grips that would be enough for him to scale down the building at a satisfactory speed. Putting his foot on the sill, he stepped off and to the right where an ornamental ledge was decorating the corner of the building. Catching himself with his arms, he peaked from behind the corner for possible witnesses then let himself fall to the right again, gripping the sill. Then he did again, this time falling to the left. Four floors down, twelve more to go. 

James repeated the same maneuver six times, climbing down in zigzag so it confused anybody possibly watching. When he landed on the ground, he straightened immediately and he started to walk leisurely in a completely different direction than his hotel. It was a nice night and, even if it wasn’t, he couldn’t afford to be followed. 

He waited until fifteen minutes had passed before letting Q know he had made his exit successfully. 

“Understood,” Q said concisely. There it was again. That something in Q’s voice. It was putting James on edge. 

When James thought he got it, got the meaning of that steel behind Q’s voice, the sharpness behind that cold exterior, that’s when the building James had previously scaled exploded. The resulting boom made him turn with controlled alarm toward the noise and he could see the night sky illuminated by a gentle orange glow. Soon, the sirens sounded, police and firefighters and ambulances. And James understood that as always, his instincts had been right. Q was angry. Only, James hadn’t expected his rage to turn out quite like that. He should have. What was it that Q told him when they first met? 

James huffed, watching the smoke rise in the air. “Are you in your pajamas, Q?”

A few rapid breaths reached James via the comm. He realized Q was soundlessly laughing. “No. But I am drinking a cup of Earl Grey.”

A quick smile flashed across James’ lips. “Not your first then.”

“Nor my last.” 

*  
“We okay?” Elisaz Lis said nervously for the third time in as many minutes. 

James regarded Lis in silence for about a minute, making him fidget. However, he didn’t back down and let the question still hang between them. “What seems to be the problem, Mr. Lis?” 

Lis’ green eyes were avoiding James’ with proficiency. “I hear things, Mr. Bond,” he said slyly. “I was making sure that… my appliances,” he said slightly accented and smiled with a note of caution, “were not upset with me. I gave you good intel, yes? I can’t have known about the Russian spy.”

James was confused mostly, but he started to get an inkling about the reason for all the questions. He did hear about the proxy who got electrocuted while making coffee from the office gossip, but hadn’t connected it with the man who fouled up his last mission. 

“You can’t have known,” James agreed. “And if the information continues to be mostly correct I see no reason for your appliances to malfunction.”

Lis looked relieved. “Your assurance is very much appreciated.” He got up, nodded, “Goodbye, Mr. Bond. Have a good day.”

James just nodded. What was his Quartermaster doing? 

*  
“Are we alone or is your Quartermaster watching over you?” asked what he assumes to be a pretty assassin, Dolce Morte, seductively in a smoky voice. 

James ignored the question, asking one of his own. “My Quatermaster?”

She laughed. Deep and smooth, resounding in the warehouse they were chasing each other. Not long ago, he would have felt a stir at the sound, but now he was mostly worried. What did this Italian assassin know about Q? He ignored the part of him that was aware there were other reasons for not feeling aroused by a grave voice and well wielded blade. Like the aforementioned Quartermaster. But it was neither the time nor the place for such thoughts. 

“Everybody knows about your Q and his favorite agent – you – the fabulous 007. Why else would they hire me?”

James frowned. “And here I thought you were here for me.” He threw a dagger at a lightbulb some distance away, from a bad angle, but still managed to hit it and taking advantage of that distraction started climbing some crates. 

“Obviously,” she said dryly. Dolce Morte had the type of neutral voice that made it impossible to distinguish an accent and, however pleasant it may be, that aspect was more than a little frustrating. “You are the reason why I’m here. As it happens, I’m the only one crazy enough to take a contract against you.”

James didn’t ask for more details having a decent if slippery grip on how she thought, even if he didn’t have an idea yet on what she would do, and he had a feeling more was coming. Instead he concentrated on his surroundings as soon as he reached high ground. 

“Only they didn’t want the direct approach initially. They wanted someone to attack like your Quartermaster does – quietly and without evidence. Only you already had the best on your side. And he has proven ruthless when it comes to you,” she finished delightedly. 

“I’ll send him your gratitude,” said James before moving into a shadowy corner. Even if it was afternoon, there wasn’t enough natural light in the warehouse. The electric lights didn’t work, but they would soon. He only had a little while until Q found him, after all. 

“Yes, I know.” By the sound of her voice she was smiling or smirking. Smirking, James was sure. “There’s a time limit. You’re never gone for too long out of his sight and the hacker I hired is not going to be a problem indefinitely.” She landed behind him. Where did she come from? “What do you think? Thirty seconds?” 

Dolce Morte launched a punch towards him which he instinctively sidestepped and noticed that it was more like a slap made with some five inch claws attached at the end of the fingers, in her palm and on her wrist. The rest of her was hidden by a black suit. Black boots, black mask, black goggles, basically black everywhere, she was so carefully disguised she seemed nothing more than a shadow. Not even her outline could be seen clearly from the darkness that surrounded her and at the speed she was moving. The only points of light on her person were the numerous blades she had all over her body. 

James understood how she had managed to drop behind him, although he was on the highest crate in the warehouse, but he still had trouble believing it. When she ducked down under his kick and from crouching down she easily flipped backwards, landing quietly on her feet before throwing a dagger at him, James had to admit she had the athleticism necessary for scaling the ceiling of the warehouse, as he suspected. Still, it must have been quite the effort and no approach he had ever considered. 

He knew she was to be taken seriously when he was supposed to meet an informant in the warehouse and instead got his comms killed as soon as he stepped in, but really even with her presenting herself as Dolce Morte, with numerous kills in all kinds of impossible situations, James still underestimated her. That should teach him, he reflected as he sidestepped yet another dagger and blocked her claws, one of them – the one in her palm or on her wrist, perhaps – managing to knick him pretty good on the forearm. He somehow got in a head butt – yes, it wasn’t the most elegant of moves, but it worked – making her stumble a bit and altering her capacity to aim enough that he could catch the next thrown dagger. 

Armed, he made his way towards her, darting in to cut her throat when she surprisingly rolled off the crate. Suddenly, there was silence. He could feel the metal of the dagger in his hand, cool and indifferent, but other than that he could not make out any foreign sounds or textures in his vicinity. James remained alert nonetheless, ready for another strike, when he heard her chuckle. From the general location of her voice, she had landed, though he hadn’t heard her. 

“Not bad. Not bad at all,” she mocked. “It’s so nice to see that your reputation was not built on lies.” Or she was serious. It was rather tough to tell. “Unfortunately, this dance will be continued on some other occasion because our time is up. Until the next time,” she said cheerily. “Oh, and kiss your Quatermaster for me. And make it good, will you?” 

James was left standing in the semidarkness, the echo of her vicious cackle in his ears, the weight of the dagger gripped loosely in his hand, still tense and expecting something to happen. Something did happen, when the lights came on full strength in the warehouse not even a second later and a tightly controlled, but endearing voice asked, “Still breathing, 007?”

Talk about the devil. “Unfortunately for you, yes, I am.” He felt more than he heard his Quartermaster’s relived sigh. It made him smile. “Dolce Morte, the Italian assassin, was here. I don’t know where she’s gone.”

“I’m on it.” Sure enough he could Q’s fast typing over the comms. “I don’t promise anything though, there’s a blackout in the whole city. She must’ve had accomplices at the main power stations,” Q said, sounding frustrated. 

James blinked. “Why is it power here then?”

“I redirected it,” Q sounded sheepish. “Don’t ask where from, you don’t want to know.”

“I don’t want to know or would it be embarrassing if you told me?” smirked James. 

“Whichever makes you stop asking,” Q quickly answered in that sure fire way of his. 

“Mmhmm.” James dropped the subject before tackling another head on. “Say Q, you wouldn’t happen to know why someone decided that throwing a whole city into a blackout would be the only appropriate way to attack me?”

“I don’t know where you’re going with this particular line of questioning, 007, but I’m busy at the moment,” Q prissily said. 

James snorted. 

*

James looked at the gathered people and waited for them to speak. To be perfectly honest, when he was called in M’s office, he didn’t expect Tanner and Moneypenny to be there. It wasn’t how his M did it, but he supposed, rather nastily, that when one could not be sufficiently intimidating on his own, he gathered a team and brought it along. So, he just stared at them back serenely. 

“Bond, we are aware of a sexual relationship between the Quartermaster and you,” M began. “One that has been repeated several times, which as the pattern would suggest, is not exactly your modus operandi.” Of course, after that he fell silent so maybe that was all he wanted to say. Somehow, James doubted it. 

James simply leaned back in his chair and raised an eyebrow. He was waiting for the question. 

“Q appears to care about you so strongly that he frightens assassins into creating a city-wide blackout,” Tanner said. 

James frowned slightly. Was this an intervention? It surely wasn’t for him. For Q? Shouldn’t Q be sitting here then? 

“That’s obviously a good thing,” said Moneypenny with a threatening edge and a look directed at Tanner. 

“We’d like to know how you fell about him,” Tanner said in that conciliatory manner that was seemingly made for him. 

James blinked, confused. The others were obviously waiting for a response, but he had a bad feeling about this. He kept quiet. 

Finally Moneypenny cracked. “We just want you to talk to him.” She smiled. 

But James’ insides were already frozen. He could feel the dismay crawling in and he thought suddenly about that saying. The one about lucky in love or lucky at everything else? It sure fitted him, sweet irony. If he was ordered to kill Q would he do it? Smart, smooth, cool Q, with the sinful voice, devastating half smile and glittering, intelligent blue-grey eyes. The one who did everything possible to make sure he got home alive and even some things that weren’t possible. Would he really betray England for him? On the other hand, would he really kill Q? 

“Was that an euphemism?” asked James, a little roughly than usual, starring at M directly. 

M’s eyes widened a little. “No. It certainly is not an euphemism.” He sighted. “Look, you’re the only agent who Q still watches over personally. Rightly, he claims that you are the agent who gets in trouble most, but at the same time, you’re our last hope.”

“Because I have sex with him.” The doubt in James voice was nearly palpable. 

Tanner was the one who smiled slightly, M’s legacy of cold-blooded subordinates apparently still lived on. Moneypenny and the new M were exchanging looks for whatever reason. There was still an unusual pressure on James’ shoulders. Guess the indecisiveness took him by surprise, but he didn’t really have time to think about it because his orders weren’t yet issued. 

“James – ” started Moneypenny wanting to appeal to him on more informal terms. 

It wasn’t what he wanted and, until he found out just what the hell they were telling him, the distance formality offered was preferable. 

“Mr. Bond,” James interrupted her with neutrality, though it seemed to take her a few seconds to recover. Mostly, James suspected, because she realized she had made a mistake when she gambled on the fact that they were close enough, what with their flirting, to allow her to be more close to him in this instance. It didn’t. Now their playful banter died a sudden death, to be revived later or never. 

“Mr. Bond,” M took over, “you must know about the building explosion, the proxy’s death, the general suspicion and the notoriety that suddenly surrounds the Quartermaster. What you may not know about were other missions where he was requested to oversee a certain agent or another and he refused. Said he’d deal with the problem himself. The incidents in which their toasters turned on them or the explosions that followed didn’t surprise anybody. Every death is accidental, but was attributed to Q by the world.”

“Self-defense is one thing. To kill people when they are in the process of shooting at you is understandable,” explained Tanner as if to a small child. “Not so when they are many miles away. It gives us a reputation, him in particular, of being the proverbial powder keg. No one knows when it’s going to go boom.”

“But that’s not necessarily a bad thing. It could be a very, very good thing if we played this right,” assured M. 

“We need to know what he’s doing. We need to know why he’s doing what he’s doing. We need to have an idea of the sort of thing that he’s planning so we could help him,” Moneypenny pleaded. 

“Or stop him,” James said. 

“Frankly, he is more like you in that regard than you know. Q is wholly loyal to England, of that I have no doubt,” pronounced M. 

Because his older brother practically runs the country. James wanted to snort but instead lifted an inquiring eyebrow. He had promised Q he wouldn’t go around letting people know he had met Q’s brothers. He got an exploding pen for it, it was a fair exchange. 

“I assure you, it’s not the nature of what he’s doing a concern for us, but rather the action in and of itself which is getting a bit out of hand.” M exchanged another look with Tanner. “As such, we thought of sending you, seeing as you are a great team on the field and off.”

James was slightly confused, but that was still better than the other option. The one with the killing and the blood and the impossible decision. But still. For people to assume that there was a significant connection between Q and him, it was simply mind boggling really. Did these people know him? Did they know Q? On the other hand, maybe there was a tiny bit more to their arrangement than he knew at first, but he felt that he should know about it first. Before it was used against one of them, like it was now. “And tell you what I find out.”

M nodded. “No.”

“I don’t think you know what it means to nod,” replied James dryly. “It means you’re conveying your acceptance of the situation. In most cases, it is accompanied by the word ‘yes’. The head shaking is the movement you need to use for ‘no’.”

Tanner’s lips curved, but it was M who outright laughed. James waited for him to catch his breath, speak and hopefully end this trek into the mirror universe he happened upon. He might be using one of Q’s movies as reference, but it was his own head, he was allowed. 

“I nodded because I was expecting your answer, but it is not necessary to inform me,” smiled M. It made James suspicious, especially when M continued. “I’d appreciate it if you sought my help when needed, but I can understand how that is a bit of a stretch. It is my hope that with time, you’ll afford me even a quarter of the trust you so graciously gave my predecessor.”

James narrowed his eyes. 

“Very good,” M said with a smile, like that was any sort of confirmation. “You are free to go, 007.”

“Sir.” James nodded as he stood up, before making a very strategic retreat. 

* 

Q gestured for James to be quiet when he entered the Quartermaster’s office, before redirecting his attention to the phone and the code he had rolling on three screens. Q’s office was a soundproof glass room, with lots of servers, monitors and a complex looking keypad. It was located above and behind all his minions, with the desk having the view of the branch. He usually spent all his time on the floor with the rest of the Q branch, directing their work, while doing his own, front and centre. That was another change James had simply let slide.

Because… well, because frankly Q was somebody who continuously watched out for James. As long as James didn’t have any evidence or suspicion that Q was screwing with MI6 and England, he could work on as many personal projects as he liked as far as James was concerned. 

“Of course he’s going to kill me if he’s ordered to, Mycroft, don’t be dull,” Q was saying and it managed to attract James’ attention completely and thoroughly. “What I doubt, is somebody’s ability to take you for granted or even to discount the effect you have on your family and give such an order. It’s clear to everybody. We’re whipped. You managed to breathe your love of country in the very oxygen around you and we, as such, have it through osmosis.”

Q turned and rolled his eyes at James, who was, again, worried. “Who’s trying to kill you?” James mouthed. 

Q’s smile turned sharp. “You,” he mouthed back.

James froze, though outwardly he appeared marginally tenser than when he entered the office. It either wasn’t any doubt on where his loyalties lay – with queen and country – or he managed to convince Q he didn’t care all that much about him. Somehow, neither of these thoughts was comforting. They should have been, but they weren’t. 

The wicked curve of Q’s lips gentled at seeing him tense, and he walked towards James and pressed his lips to his neck, before laying his head on James’ shoulder. James hands came up and automatically wrapped around his waist, all the while thinking that there was something wrong – as in crazy – with Q, to embrace the man he accepted so easily as his would-be murderer. 

“Yeah, he’s here. I’ll ask him,” Q said, relaxed and at ease. “Are you here to kill me, 007?” he asked, with innocent curiosity in his voice. 

James felt his heart break. He knew that Q was not innocent, that he had killed his share of people, that he was more than jaded, but so had James, and it was enough that at particular moment, when Q seemed so damn adorable, the knowledge that Q had asked the question without any accusation in his voice, without any anger, to have the power to drive a knife deep within James. It was like for a minute he saw himself clearly from another perspective, the one in which he was a monster who fought for undefined purposes while the people he most cared about suffered. 

It was a disturbing view in the mirror, although even from that perspective he was grateful for his Q. He blinked and it was gone. But the realization stayed. Not at the same intensity, but it stayed, nonetheless. 

“No,” James said gruffly, tightening his hands around Q’s waist. 

“Satisfied?” Q asked towards the phone – and Mycroft – while raising his head to study James. “Yes, well, I’m thankful for the warning… brother.” He ended the call. “What seems to be the problem, James?” 

James allowed himself to smile tenderly at the name so rarely used by Q. It automatically made him feel better, which had to be Q’s point of doing it. Damn him and his small manipulations that bothered him a lot less than they should. Because not only James had his ways himself, the reason he felt better had something to do with Q acknowledging there was something more between them then double-oh agent and Quartermaster.

“You tell me, Holmes. You’ve got all sorts of people in a tizzy,” James responded with a grin. 

Q lips twitched. “Tizzy, 007?”

“Not proper enough for you?” James asked teasingly. 

“More of a thing I’d say.” Q whispered the response against his lips. 

James started to smirk, but then thought better about it and indulged a little giving in to the temptation to taste Q’s lips and mouth once again. When they separated, it was with a shared smile before turning back to work when Q’s computer pinged. 

“Work, work, work. Now let’s see, what do we have here?” Q said as he followed the indecipherable words moving at great speeds on the screen. He also seemed to be watching two of the monitors simultaneously. The news did not seem to be the best. 

“Damn,” Q whispered. He silently spun around and started marching to the door. 

James stepped in Q’s way. “Where are you going?”

“The shooting range,” Q offered with a wide, fake grin. “Pardon me.” He tried to move around James, but James wouldn’t let him. 

“How about you tell me what you are doing so that everybody could relax?” James asked. “Maybe I can even help you,” he said doubtfully watching the lines of code rolling on the screens. 

Q smiled a little. His polite smile. “Who’s everybody?” 

James got suspicious. Q was avoiding the subject or he just didn’t want to tell James about it. “M, Tanner, Moneypenny – ” James voice got deeper, “ – your brother, not to mention all the other miscellaneous people, like an informant and an assassin.”

“Oh,” said Q dryly, “those people.”

“And I know you’re working on some project, everybody knows you’re working on something since you started to blow up buildings, but no one knows what.”

Q took a deep breath and turned around to look out the glass walls. “I tried to not let it interfere with my usual work, but…” Q paused. James saw Q’s mouth open and close. “It got to be a tad too much,” Q finally finished. 

“What did?” James asked. He was not the most patient person at the best of times, especially when somebody was not forthcoming with information, but he tried – like a fool, always a fool with people he cared about – to wait until he had some kind of explanation. 

Q beat a rhythm, or – now that James looked at it in the light – typed a password on a touch screen keypad hidden in the glass wall, making it obscure. He didn’t need to hear the noise level rise in the room below to know that it was the first time Q had done it in almost two years he had been head of the branch. Unfortunately, Q still didn’t face him. 

“I couldn’t tell anybody, because they would dismiss it as my ego acting up,” Q said somberly watching his own reflection in the fogged glass. 

“Was it?” James successfully kept the trepidation out of his voice. 

Q raised his voice, “No.” He finally turned around to look James in the eye. “Maybe. I don’t know. But… mostly, no.”

That cleared things right up. Sure. “What exactly are you talking about? Yes, your ego needs its own house,” James said wryly. “What about it? It’s well deserved.”

Q smiled bitterly. “You are another reason I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to be the wanker who reminded you of all that mess,” Q said quietly. 

James had a bad feeling about this. “Q, what are you talking about?”

For a few seconds there was silence between them while Q studied James intensely. Q broke eye contact before he took a deep breath and said the words James dreaded. “Silva’s plan was too perfect.” He subtly licked his lips, “Even when the circumstances changed.”

It was James’ turn to study the wall. This shouldn’t have surprised him. He didn’t want to think about it, but he should have expected that it’ll come up sooner or later. Like Vesper and Skyfall, nothing in his life stayed in the past. He gave an inaudible sigh. It couldn’t have hurt to come back for him later. Much, much later. For example, in ten years’ time. Or approximately never. 

While James had his little existential crisis, Q waited patiently, carefully not looking at James, but studying him from the corner of his eye, a worried air to him. James was continuously astounded by Q’s stupidity – or endearing naiveté, that was better actually – when his decisions regarded James. “Why did you fog up the glass if you expected me to be upset? With glass walls I would have to be careful of all the witnesses.” 

Q looked at him like he was dumb. “I expected you to be upset, as in sad, confused, maybe even break a paperweight, though that I seriously doubted. For goodness’ sake, I didn’t expect you to go postal. You have more control than that. I didn’t tell you because I was worried it might cause you pain, not because I was afraid for my life.”

James blinked. “That actually makes sense,” James said and ignored the ‘You think?’ look that Q threw at him. “So, what are your main arguments for Silva’s plan being too perfect?”

“Even if we assume that Silva hacked us before it all started and was able to discover the new location and that I’ll be the next guy in line for Q branch if he timed his explosion just right to kill my predecessor and his R, he still couldn’t have all the facts. How could he arrange for the man to wait with new clothes before it all began? It’s not like the man could have loitered around the subway for the whole day. I watched the footage. He came in and passed the bag of clothes to Silva. He couldn’t have known that to the minute. Nobody is that smart.

“And… it’s all the moving pieces that just don’t make sense, that are impossible to predict. Silva had to have known you were still alive, how long it would take you to return, to pass your tests, to get on the boat, then how long it was going to take me to follow the transmitter that at that point in time, before it all began I hadn’t even invented yet, and then he had to know how long it would take for us to decrypt the laptop. It’s crazy. I tried to discover some sort of interference or surveillance that he had on our system, but there’s nothing. Nothing I missed with my initial sweeps for malware, which I had been running continuously at the time of the attack and only once I connected that laptop to the network did we get breached. Not a moment sooner. 

“Nothing that destroyed itself automatically, nothing that transformed itself into basic data, no intrusions, no irregular activity, I even analyzed regular activity within the system to see if it got in that way. Double checked everything.” Q got increasingly desperate – talking faster and faster, running his long-fingered hands through his hair, his voice raised and tight with tension. Then he stopped. Trembled a bit in place. “I got nothing,” he finished quietly. 

James understood that Q had done all that was humanly possible. He even checked for things that shouldn’t be possible. But James’ mind went into a different direction. Only… It couldn’t be, right? Nonsense. Of course it could. 

Q sighed interrupting James’ thoughts. “Maybe he really is that much better than me.”

James chuckled and put his arms up, palms facing forward in an universal sign of ‘I come in peace’ at Q’s scorching glare. “I think you are overestimating him.” He continued before Q had a chance to answer, “It’s not within your purview and, if the people here hadn’t – if I hadn’t – dropped the ball we might have found out the truth already. And might have stopped you from going berserk on people.” James paused for a bit. “Through I liked that.” He shrugged. 

Q looked unimpressed. He was his composed self again. Good. “And what wasn’t in my purview, 007?”

“Have you considered an inside man instead of a super genius inside program?” James asked, his gleefulness barely hidden even before the frown appeared on Q’s face. 

“I have not,” admitted Q. 

James was smug. “And that’s why you have me around here.” 

Frowning, Q typed something to access all the personnel files. He typed something else to get rid of some of them and again to classify them in some sort of order. It was M on that list, pretty high up, Moneypenny, Tanner, James’ M, Q, most of Q branch and a bunch of other people. James looked at Q waiting for explanations. 

“Those are the people who used, or who appeared to have used their codes to access the system at and around the time of the attacks,” Q spread them on the screens. “As such, they are the people who appeared to have been working at the time. Naturally, we are not excluding the possibility of their access codes being used by other people, but for a couple of them we could get independent confirmation.”

“Right. I can confirm you,” grinned James, his grin becoming more of a smirk when Q rolled his eyes. “Both Ms, Moneypenny, Tanner.”

Q nodded. “And I can confirm the members of the Q branch. Your physical therapy specialist, the doctor, the psychologist, the arms instructor because they entered your re-qualification reports in the system. Other then that, I don’t know.” Q pulled up two men and one woman on the central screen. “But there aren’t that many left, we weren’t doing much at the time.”

“Those two are accountants. Check to see if they have made a prediction report, loss of property or some such thing, of my incoming mission,” James said gesturing to the woman and one of the men. “They always get on my ass for destroying too much property. Formed a team once and were trying to show me the error of my ways.”

Q snickered. “That didn’t work. It’s like they don’t know you at all.” He laughed when he brought up the report. “Oh, you disappointed them. Do better next time, 007,” Q said wryly. “Just don’t ruin my tech. The last one is a logistic expert. He was supervising the move. I have his report right here.”

They studied the list in silence. “I think it’s M,” James pronounced, eyes narrowed suspiciously. 

Stopping himself from rolling his eyes by sheer force of will, Q nonetheless looked less than impressed. “Really?” Q asked. “Isn’t that more of a want thing?”

“Are you accusing me of wanting my boss to be an inside man to a deranged ex-agent?” asked James jokingly. 

Q tapped his glasses further up his nose. “One of your bosses,” Q said with a smile. “And yes, that’s exactly – ” he stopped abruptly when James put his hand on his shoulder. “James?”

“We weren’t hacked after the building exploded, right?” James asked absent-mindedly. 

“Right.” Q looked at James suspiciously and slightly jealously. Q being envious of James’ figuring it out was good for his ego. 

“Then how did Silva quote from my psych report?”

Q’s both eyebrows lifted before turning and typing something. A warning appeared on the screen that was letting Q know that he didn’t have access. Q just looked at it as he would a misbehaving child and then started typing in earnest. Not even a minute passed and the report opened on the left side screen. It was the screen closest to James. 

James smirked. “You completely ignored that window that said you don’t have access, didn’t you?” 

“Nonsense. I’m allowed access everywhere,” said Q airily. “Is that the report that Silva quoted?”

Supporting himself on Q’s shoulder, James speed-read the report and nodded, before straightening up. “Yes, it is,” James said quietly, letting his fingers move in a small massage over Q’s shoulders.

The personnel file of the psychologist came up on the screen brought up by Q’s quick thinking. On another screen began James’ interview. 

“He was with MI6 when Silva was still a double-oh,” said Q though he obviously was thinking about something else. “There.” Q gestured towards the monitor with the interview. “Why did he ask you that question?” He was referring to the word association with ‘Skyfall’.

“I don’t have a psychology degree, Q.”

Q took a drink of his tea. He shook his head. “Neither do I. However, isn’t that way into the past for you? I mean, obviously, it could still affect you, but why not find out about the betrayal you naturally felt at hearing M’s decision to shoot at you.” Q paused, tended towards slightly insecure for a split second, probably at James’ possible reaction, before continuing calmly. “And whoever was your psychologist had to have access to your previous evaluations. Did nobody ask you about your childhood house before?”

“They did. Once.” James smirked. “I punched the guy in the jaw. Broke it in two places.”

Chuckling, Q nodded. “Yes, fits exactly into the 007 pattern. So, why bring it up now? It’s unlikely your opinion has changed while you were shot and believed dead. Certainly, it can be seen as a way to find out whether you would crack. But it can also be seen as a way to provoke you into assaulting a MI6 employee.”

“Let’s talk to him,” said James decisively. He went for his phone. “Security, I’m Bond. James Bond, yes.” James made a face at Q’s silent chuckles. “Put a ‘do not leave’ order on Dr. Aaron Lyle. Please. Thank you.”

“You have the authority to put a ‘do not leave’ order on somebody?” Q asked cheerily while he was writing an email to summon Dr. Lyle, who thankfully was a PhD not a MD. 

“How did you put it? Nonsense. I have authority everywhere,” responded James easily. He looked at Q beckoning Dr. Lyle to come so naturally. And his obvious expectance for his request to be heeded. “I always forget that you are actually the head of a branch here.”

Q gave him a glare over his glasses. “That’s because you don’t care about authority.” 

James leaned over and kissed his hair. “I care more about ability.” 

Though he didn’t say anything, James could tell that Q was pleased. He finished the email, then brought footage on the overhead screen of a office inside the MI6. “Here he is.”

They both watched as Dr. Lyle – who was… average in appearance, brown hair, brown eyes, 5’8”, nothing distinctive about him as far as James saw – noticed he had a new email and proceeded to read it. He clenched his jaw, looked toward the camera and let out a bitter-sounding laugh. Nodding, he raised from the desk. 

“He’s on his way here,” said Q, brows gathered together into a pensive frown. “It can’t be that easy, can it?”

James aimed at Q a look full of disbelief. “Q, you searched for two years, you went trigger-happy with how much of your time this took, I was almost ordered to take you out, and you call this easy?”

“You made it clear that I wasn’t looking where I should have been.” Q shrugged. “Once we looked into people, it went almost laughably fast.”

James shook his head. “You were the only one who was still looking, Q. Because of a bruised ego or because you had actual concerns, you were the only one who was still investigating this thing, when we all just wanted to forget. Without your bone-headedness, it would have unnoticed.”

It was Q’s turn to shake his head. He didn’t seem to agree with James, his entire body was screaming ‘I should’ve done more’ as he concentrated on Dr. Lyle’s progress through the building. 

“If anybody else would have even told me the rat’s name, I’d have exploded. It was only because I appreciate your genius, your competence and because…” James fumbled for the words, “I’m not indifferent to you, that I even accepted your version. And without me, there was no way anybody would make the connection between Silva and Dr. Lyle.” 

There was a subtle smile playing about Q’s lips. “You need to write better mission debriefs.” When James snorted, Q gave him a side-ways look and whispered gently, “I am not indifferent to you, either.” 

The two laughed while watching the monitor, neither of them being completely comfortable with sharing their feelings, but comfortable in each others’ presence. 

Q stood up. “Heads up,” he warned. He turned to the door just as a knock was heard. “Why don’t you invite him in, 007?”

James nodded and went to the door. 

Dr. Lyle smiled bitterly when he saw him. “I knew you would be here.” He took a deep breath. “I also know why I’m here. You’re right.”

Q’s eyes narrowed in tandem with James’ eyebrows frowning, and it was James who asked, “Are you admitting you are Silva’s inside man?”

Dutifully, Q continued, “That you provided him with information before, during and after his escape? That you were in contact with his men?” 

“Yes. To all of it.” Dr. Lyle sighed deeply. “You two are a great pair. True partners.”

James’ instinct was to step in front of Q, but he knew better, especially with how Q’s eyebrow lifted and his perfectly polite ‘Oh?’ that made James hindbrain fight for control of his body. So, he simply tried to stay away from most electrical appliances, which was harder to do than say being in Q’s office, and put his right hand on the gun. 

Dr. Lyle huffed. “Fine. You want to know why, right. Very well. When Tiago was still a double-oh we were sleeping together. As it almost always happens, when people do the kind of work we do, it was more than that, thought we never admitted it.” He paused and threw a meaningful look towards the Q and James. He must’ve received such unimpressed looks that a true, humorous chuckle escaped him. James didn’t know what sort of face Q did because they were both watching Dr. Lyle. He trusted Q, though. 

“Then he was sold. That wasn’t the first mission in which he took an independent approach, all the best double-ohs do it, but this time it was more valuable – ” Dr. Lyle spat the word, “ – to sell him off. It wasn’t right. And I couldn’t do anything. I mean, I’m not some computer genius who blows up buildings while sipping tea and not even breaking a sweat. I’m me, so I did what I could. Which was making life difficult for you and selling you off. I’m not even a little bit sorry.”

Q was full on glaring, James could tell, and he wasn’t that far behind, when Dr. Lyle continued. “That’s why you two make such a wonderful team,” he said, regret coloring his words in dark shades. “You both have your own abilities, but your strengths and weaknesses compliment each other in such a way that you could always defend or protect the other. It’s rare than someone finds a match like yours. Tiago and I didn’t. But, oh, how wonderful we burned together.”

Dr. Lyle fell silent and they finally looked at each other. James wished he could be able to tell what he was feeling. Or that he could read the look on Q’s face. 

* 

“How do you feel about your M’s order, James?” Q asked when they were finally alone together and Dr. Lyle was in a cell. 

James gathered Q in his arms, needing him close. “I don’t know.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
